


Bid My Blood to Run

by Carleen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Female Shepard romance, Garrus Love, Garrus romance, Interspecies Awkwardness, Mass Effect - Freeform, Turians, scifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Carleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different approach to the FemShep/Garrus relationship. He's a turian and perhaps not always the kind-hearted and gentle teddy bear we've come to expect.  Adult situations about adult relationships. Rated explicit 'cause it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bid My Blood to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've read plenty of wonderfully erotic and romantic - you guys are awesome - Garrus/FemShep stories. I never really felt up to the task, or couldn't think of anything to add. Then I thought about a different approach. I present, for your inspection, my contribution to the FemShep/Garrus genre. The two chapters were inspired by the Evanescence songs "Bring Me to Life and "My Immortal" Would love to know what you think. Adult stuff in here.

* * *

"All this time I can't believe I couldn't see

Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me

I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems

Got to open my eyes to everything"

Evanescence - _Bring Me to Life_

* * *

The feelings continued to taunt and tease her. She doesn't have time for feelings or needs. Ignoring them hadn't worked. Running twelve miles just left her breathless and overheated. The punching bag scraped her knuckles raw. The hot shower burned her skin but did nothing to ease her pain. Escaping into sleep? She woke lonely and restless. And so much for the oblivion of her beloved single malt. These days, a stiff drink just tore up her stomach.

She might be Commander Shepard, but every so often biology reminded her she was also a woman. Tonight that lonely woman restlessly prowled the confines of her quarters. Her ostentatious quarters, with a large empty bed and an absurd aquarium. What would her crew think if they knew she spends most nights tossing and turning on the narrow couch?

What were her other choices? Not that she had any real choices. After all, Space is where she does her job. So where do you want to be? She asked herself trying to fight off this isolation and feelings of inevitable mortality. A house in the city or a house in the country? A house full of children and a garden? A happy home and a loving husband? Who would save the galaxy if she were planting tomatoes and dropping the kids off at school? Who would gather resources and recruit allies if she were off having a life? Selfish girl. And everyone died. Right?

Count your blessings, Katherine. What do you have? A beautiful ship, a brave and faithful crew. And God, how she loved every single one of them. Wait. What about sex? Maybe she just needed to get laid? Who the hell had time for that? Meet a guy, get to know a guy, actually like the guy and accomplish all that between dangerous missions under the scrutiny of the other races. That's where guys had it easy. The last two requirements weren't vital to them; all they required was your presence. Shepard flopped down on her bed; maybe that was a bit harsh. But, dammit, they did have it easier.

The embroidered asari quilt under her cheek mocked her. She'd purchased some stuff for her quarters, but nesting hadn't helped. She'd prepared a meal for her crew. Nurturing hadn't helped. So it was back to sex. Wait, what about something different? Exotic or otherwise, it's been a long time since she'd been with anyone. Thane had expressed his admiration. She knew him, liked him, even admired him, and he was a gentleman. Problem solved.

Heading to her desk, she almost tripped over her own feet. After her shower, she'd put on this ridiculous asari dress. It was too damn tight, and she could hardly walk in it. First thing tomorrow she'd toss both this absurd straight jacket of a dress and that slut-ifying black leather thing out the airlock. Get rid of all the damn 'girl clothes' in her closet. As her life stood now, they served no purpose.

Talking to Thane only added to her unease. The sound of her voice had a thin and almost pleading tone. But he sounded pleased. At least, she thought he sounded pleased. What if he...? What if he saw this as a sort of loyalty mission? Or just a pity fuck? Maybe this was a mistake? Come on Shepard, you can do this. You need this.

He'd said an hour. Okay, an hour. She began to pace, with a glass of scotch cradled in her hands. After just five minutes her door opened, and she recognized the quick strides of Garrus Vakarian as he rounded on her.

"What are you doing with the drell?"

"I'm positive this is none of your business."

"He's an assassin."

"He likes me."

"He's an amphibian!"

"And I'm a human, and you're avian. So what? You're heading into dangerous waters, my friend."

"Really? Since you brought it up, do you plan to have sex with him in the fish tank? Let him fertilize your eggs by spawning on you?"

"Maybe that's why I have a fish tank and not a _bird cage_!"

"Very funny. Look around you. You're already in a cage! What you need is a quiet and safe place."

"You have no idea what I need."

"Oh, one of us is in a bad mood," Garrus said crossing his arms over his chest with his eyes boring into hers. Daring her to kick him out.

"Don't you dare patronize me Garrus Vakarian. Besides, it seems you're the only one around here who's worried about inter-species awkwardness!"

Garrus didn't miss much. Especially where Commander Shepard was concerned. She was in a bad mood, that much was obvious. Her body language shouted trouble. Then she rubbed her hand across her abdomen. He saw it, and she noticed he noticed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Get out of my quarters now. Unless, of course, you want to watch spawning activities.

"You're in pain and looking for a target."

"I'm looking to get laid."

Hiking the dress to her knees, Shepard moved impatiently to the doorway. Holding it open so Garrus would get the hint. He joined her at the door but made no move to leave. Instead, he glared down at her, blue eyes snapping in defiance.

"Thane Krios will not be joining you," Garrus replied, his voice vibrating from his chest in warning tones.

She took a swing at him, and he let her. The blow struck the edge of his armor cowl. Then he tried to grab her hand because it was entirely possible she'd just broken some bones. Then with a cry, she swung at him with her left hand. That time he stopped her. But she was too quick and followed up with another swing from her injured right hand that rattled his jaw.

"Leave me alone!" Shepard stepped forward, and the door closed behind her. Under the eerie glow of the fish tank, she moved to a battle stance, up on the balls of her feet, glaring at him her hands balled into fists. The dress slid back down over her legs, allowing her little room for actual movement.

Turning his back on her, Garrus popped the fasteners on his chest plate. The cowl came away, and the leggings clattered to the deck. Then he kicked the pile of armor in the general direction of the bathroom. The gloves and visor landed on the desk. All arms and legs and sharp edges. He appeared quite intimidating in nothing but a black body suit. When he faced her Shepard took an involuntarily took a step backward.

"The fearless Commander Shepard backing away? If it's a fight you want, here I am."

She flew at him, hammering blows to his chest. Instead of warding off her fists, Garrus did the only thing he could think of and circled her with his arms. A turian wouldn't think of it as an embrace. He only wanted to control her actions and keep her from hurting herself. By the time she slowed down and began to tire, Garrus had his long arms wound tightly around her.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" She sighed into this chest.

"I've tried and I can't."

"Try harder."

"I will not abandon you, my precious friend. Let me help."

She didn't answer him. But he felt her settle into his embrace. A good sign. As Garrus relaxed too, certain things about her drifted to his awareness. She smelled different, and she felt different. Instead of firm muscles and unyielding strength, tonight she felt soft, rounded and yielding.

If she were a turian female, he would say she were broadcasting her― _Spirits_ ―her fertility. No wonder. But why would he respond to a human? His instincts answered before his brain could respond. His body softened; talons flexed open and spread across her body to grip and possess. Then he knew, as he'd always known, it was this human, this female, his brave Shepard.

"Katherine, listen to me," Garrus cupped her face and made her look up. "My awkwardness, as you call it, comes from the fear of losing your regard. If this didn't work out, then I would have to leave. I don't want to leave… ever. Do you understand?"

"Stop talking," she said, burrowing her face into his hand. She held that hand against her face as she rested against the turian.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"I need something, Garrus. I'm so empty."

"Kaidan loves you, and he would know how to please you."

Raising her head again, she looked at him, wondering if he appreciated the irony of his statement. "You won't let me have Thane, but Kaidan isn't off limits?"

"He's off limits too." Touching his forehead to hers, blue eyes holding her intense green gaze. "But I want you to find happiness and get what you need. I don't understand. So will you show me? Where does it hurt?" Without asking Garrus pushed the dress down to her waist.

She gasped as the air caressed her sore heavy breasts. She pulled his hands to her and showed him how to cup them gently. "Then do whatever you would to a turian female. Please... touch me." Pulling his head down for a kiss, she leaned into his hands.

Her impudent claim on his mouth and insistence that he touches her human breasts launched a shot of desire through him that took him by surprise. While he pondered the consequences of being aroused by a human female, he murmured against her hair. "You don't know what you're asking. You wouldn't like it if I were that rough with you."

This needed to stop. He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. "You don't know anything about turian relationships, and I don't understand yours. There is no word for love in the turian language. "Shepard," he flung his hands up protectively. "I don't understand why your pheromones are driving me crazy."

"Then don't leave me like this, Garrus. I know I'm not what you would find attractive… Never mind. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't want to ruin our friendship with my silly…" Shepard shoved her arms back into the dress.

"Silly?"

"Make love to me Garrus. This soldier might die tomorrow. The woman has so much left to do. But I don't even know how anymore. I feel so used up. Don't let me die like this."

"Shepard...don't."

While he'd been fighting her attack on his senses and his aroused state, Shepard's deft hands found the opening in his shirt. He heard himself moan as her fingers spread over his chest. "Then call it whatever you want. Just don't leave me like this. I need you..."

"No... I don't want to hurt..."

Turning her face into his naked chest, she found an edge and bit down. His body reacted before he could stop himself and that's when he knew he was losing control. She had no idea what that meant. And she would never forgive him for this. Never understand the man she'd learned to trust and rely on wasn't capable of human love and tenderness.

With a triumphant cry, Garrus flipped her over and pushed her down on her knees against the bed. Shepard tried to pull herself up, but Garrus dropped down behind her and caught her hands; spreading their arms above her head.

"Is this what you want, Shepard?"

"Yes!"

"Forgive me…" he whispered.

In an attempt to regain some leverage, she grabbed the mattress and bucked her hips against him. How dare she challenge him? Garrus is beyond taking any time for the female underneath him. His blood ignited. Born and bred to battle and domination. Any struggle on Shepard's part only inflamed his desire. Blind passion, hot as Palaven's deserts possessed him. Garrus stripped the dress away from her legs.

He always kept his desire for Shepard hidden. He knew enough about humans to appreciate the concept of human romance, but only on an intellectual level. It always left him battling with his turian drive to claim his prize and mark her as his own and the innate respect for a commanding officer. Now she lay bare before him. His for the taking. The ancient instinct drove him on, and he grabbed her hips. But Garrus didn't know she wasn't ready for him, and she cried out as he drove himself into her, filling her, stretching and scraping delicate walls.

He wanted to do this for a long time. To possess this warrior woman and make her his own. Hot blood roared like a sandstorm in his ears. Hands strong enough to break bones held her still. Pinpricks of blood sprang to life under his talons. Her blood. The smell of it inflamed his desire and his head fell back. The sounds and smells of her body, as she reacted to him, buffeted his senses. Each stroke into the human drove him further into his warrior past. She would be his and she would bend to his will. She was speaking, but the words were indistinct.

"Harder Garrus. Oh, God, please!" She called out to him, pushing back against his thrusts. Then inexplicably Shepard turned over. Now he could see her expressive face, with her head up and her jaw clenched. Wild and beautiful, he marveled at the emotions crossing her face. Her hands fisted and twisted into the bedding. Her breasts moved to the beat of their joining. Shepard tilted her hips, and he fell deeper into her body.

"Garrus!"

"Submit," he ground out between his mandibles. His voice a harsh tangle of sub-vocals.

While she strained against him and cried out for more, the turian began to tease her. Each thrust lasted an eternity. Pulling out the heavy phallus until only the head remained, then striking again.

Shepard could not move with her will. She could move only with the power of Garrus' thrusts. All her movements dissolved into his, her body flying on the turian's wild strokes until it seemed they were only one being, in perfect harmony, a perfect union within it. It was a freedom she could only have by surrendering herself. Garrus drove himself into her, fighting his enjoyment to keep his dominance. His eyes were blazing, as he drove them on, his body locked into ancient rhythms.

Then into the cascade of pain-tinged passion and surrender, Shepard felt a hard knot of emotions coalesce in her chest. She reached out blindly for his forearms and clenched at them. Digging her nails into arms.

Dimly worried that he didn't know if he pleased her or not. He rode his desire toward its climax. Then her orgasm triggered his, with her walls clenching and pulling at him. Then he did a rather un-turian thing, by shouting her name as he emptied himself into her.

The knot of emotions burst in her chest, releasing itself and escaping through her heart. Then much to his surprise, on the wave of her last cry of release she burst into tears.

Utterly shocked, Garrus did the only thing he could think of doing and pulled her across his lap and held her while she cried. He rocked her gently and crooned to her as you would a child.

Then her hands went slack, and her head came to rest against his chest. She'd lost consciousness? In one terrifying moment, he noticed the bite marks, the blue, and red blood. A bruise bloomed on her rib cage. He'd hurt her bad enough for her to pass out. Should he call Doctor Chakwas?

"Shepard, open your eyes. Are you injured?"

"Yes," she responded sleepily. "The bite marks burn, and every muscle hurts. I feel stretched and aching and wonderful." She let her head drop back to his chest and instantly fell back to sleep.

With his free hand, the turian pulled the bedclothes around them. After stripping the bed, he lifted her gently, so she wasn't sitting on the cold deck. When he was satisfied with the arrangement, Garrus got up and quickly turned off all illumination in the room. Then from the bathroom, he grabbed a soft towel.

Garrus rejoined her on the floor and gently lifted Shepard into the circle of his embrace. Then with his warrior's hands, he methodically cleaned her body. He'd hurt her. Injured her, and she would never forgive him. So he would enjoy these last few moments with her before she kicked him out of her quarters and her life.

As he held the soft, sweet-smelling woman, a tenderness he didn't recognize possessed him. So when she shivered, he laid the cloth aside and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. Dragging his talons across her scalp, smoothing the long strands of hair as he went. When her head dropped against his chest, he moved down to her neck and shoulders with long gentle strokes.

"What are you doing?"

"I marked you as mine and made you a nest. Now I'm grooming you, although it translates better as preening. We're practically married."

"But I don't love you."

In contrast to her statement, her bare arms slid around his waist. Now he could reach all of her. She trembled as he drew his talons down over her back, slowly stroking over the velvet skin and firm muscles. Down and back up into her hair and across her scalp. When his hands reached her bottom again, he used the opportunity to pull her closer.

Awake again, Shepard guided one of his hands between her legs. Showing him the small nub with her fingers, teaching him the motion. The rough pads of his fingers drove a spike of lust through her body. With her in his arms, Garrus monitored her every breath and shiver. When her breath began to come in short gasps, and she pressed herself against him, riding him, astonished at her impudence her needs came first so he kept at it.

No turian female would dare ask for more. Never allow her mate to think he hadn't satisfied her. This female did, and she was teaching him. By the time she shattered under his hands, he is aroused again. She pulled him down and opened herself to him. In that moment of his surrender, he left behind the preconceptions of his species and followed his woman into the sweet world of their making. She held him close as lost himself in her, whispering words of promise and gratitude into her ear.

He closed his eyes as the last of the fires cooled into contentment. Garrus buried his face her neck and allowed his other senses to memorize the human female in his arms. He reveled in the sensations created from the comfort of their nest and the incredible sensuousness of their naked flesh touching and moving together. She hadn't kicked him out, but what he'd done to her must be faced.

"Katherine?"

"Mmm?"

"I hurt you."

"Yes, you did. But it's what I wanted. Garrus?" She shifted against him and straddled his hips. "Don't you understand? I needed your strength tonight. I needed to feel alive."

"You wept."

She nodded. "Something tore loose in me. Some awful feelings I'd been carrying around with me. Scared me for a minute. Not a very romantic moment. Sorry."

Garrus snorted a laugh, "You're apologizing to me?"

She ignored his question and covered them both, making sure Garrus had whatever pillow he required for his comfort. When he tried to leave because he knew, this couldn't last. He should get out of here before the moment passed, and she realized just how angry she was with him.

"Lay down, Garrus."

"I should go."

"I want to sleep in my nest with you. Look, I understand more than you think I do about what just happened between us. So before I challenge anymore of your male/female traditions by ordering you to stay, just get the hell down here. Okay?"

Her smile and open arms let him know he'd been wrong. Everything would be okay. Of course, she was strong enough to take him on, strong enough to be his mate and understand his nature. The feeling that had no definition in his culture filled him with joy as he stretched out beside her again. Garrus pulled her to his shoulder and nuzzled her smiling face. He'd won his warrior woman and made her a safe place to rest.

"Will you sing to me Garrus?

"Sing?"

"You know, that sound you make with your voice. Sometimes it's soothing and sometimes, well let's just say I can tell when you're angry."

"I know what you mean. Katherine? You really don't love me?"

"Of course not," managing to keep a straight face and cradled his face in her hands.

"Well, I don't love you either."

"Good because that would just complicate things." Shepard tucked her head against his shoulder to hide her grin. Love him? He was her greatest treasure and tonight they'd come together and confirmed their love in the most intimate expression of that dedication. Then she whispered something, and he almost missed it because she said it in his language. " _Ego dilecto meo, et dilectus meus mihi."_

The words caught at his heart, and it was all the answer he needed. Something had wonderfully gone right in his world. When Garrus Vakarian finally relaxed against the pillows, he continued carding his fingers through her hair. Then pitching his sub vocals, so she felt the vibrations against her cheek. Garrus quietly sang a turian lullaby to her as she drifted off. He wasn't sure if she was kidding about not loving him. But that was okay because he knew he loved her enough for both of them.

* * *

"I will not abandon you, my precious friend." Whistle Down the Wind, Andrew Lloyd Weber you tube /watch?v=vB-H9SR2TRg

 _Ego dilecto meo, et dilectus meus mihi_ , Song of Solomon 6:3

I am my beloved and my beloved is mine


	2. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Third paragraph. Shepard sleeping in his arms, while Garrus watches over her. This picture was my inspiration: http://madam-sparkz.deviantart.com/art/Time-to-cool-down-306001316. Amazing artist.

 

* * *

"Long lost words whisper slowly to me. Still can't find what keeps me here. When all this time I've been so hollow inside. I know you're still there." ―Evanescence, _Haunted_

* * *

Only two steps. But he couldn't make himself walk forward into the lifeless room shrouded in darkness. The empty aquarium is a dark hole where once there was light. The scent of decaying fish floated in the stale air. Even the skylight is closed. The darkness almost hid the fact the room is frozen in time. Like an old photograph of a moment held forever and without movement by the camera. Frozen, on that morning, that represented their last moments together. A day that held real expectations they might not survive. For all the joy he'd found in this room, he hated it now.

Instead of entering the room, Garrus lowered his head and squeezed his hands into fists. He wanted to manage this grief. The crew looked to him now, and he wanted to find some strength for them to tap into. But the relatively quiet sound of the hatch closing behind him made him flinch, and now he's trapped. If he entered this room, it meant accepting her death. Forcing himself to look up and make his legs move proved impossible. Twenty-four hours out from Earth, Admiral Hackett asked him to retrieve Shepard's personal effects from her quarters. Now is not the time, the pain is too intense, and the nightmare still held him in its grip. Memories, painful heartbreaking memories tore at him. A shudder left him reaching for something to support himself. No. He doesn't dare touch anything.

The night before the Battle for Earth they made love gently, with hushed voices and quiet movements. As if they could slow time by savoring each word and gesture. He'd done his best to sate her so she might sleep. Finally, with her body resting on his, he heard her breathing slow, and her heart resumed a steady beat. And for the remainder of the night, he counted those heartbeats.

The next morning they woke at the same time. Shepard pulled away from his embrace without meeting his eyes. But she'd kissed his scarred cheek and silently went about her morning routine. A mumbled thanks when he handed her a mug of coffee. She checked his pack, replaced the empty water bottle and tucked two protein bars inside. The familiar communion of donning their armor completed in silence. When he'd made an alternate weapon suggestion, she accepted the rifle without question or comment.

Time betrayed them both with Joker called from the bridge. Another call, this one from the hanger bay and the lieutenant's voice announced the Kodiak's readiness.

She left him and headed up to the cockpit to speak to Joker. Later, when she met him back in the hangar deck, he noticed the set of her jaw and the shine of tears in her eyes. With a quick grab of his arm, she steadied herself and drew what strength she needed to keep going.

How do you say goodbye to someone you love like a kid brother. Joker had been the strong one by getting up from his chair and snapping her a salute. When all she'd wanted to do was hug him or take him back to the apartment and listen to him tell jokes and make fun of her dancing. Anything just to stop time. Anything to keep them safe. The first thing they teach you in boot camp is the same thing they remind you in N7 training: Keep moving and follow the man in front of you. Move. Fight. Live. There is a refuge in these conventional rituals.

~o0o~

On Earth, they stepped from the shuttle directly into the fight and made their way slowly to Admiral Anderson's bunker. They listened to the admiral's instructions and discussed tactics. Then he reminded her to pick her team carefully. Garrus didn't know what he would have done if she hadn't picked him to go with her. But she had, and the trio who'd been with her from the early days collected their gear and prepared to move out. Tali and Garrus stopped when she put her hand up. She wanted to take the time to speak privately to her crew. While she was gone Garrus and Tali stood close together and waited. What more was there to say? There is love, respect, and there is hope.

Such a disparate group. They were blessed to have found each other at all. And now they would take that strength into battle with them. The sounds of fighting grew louder. The fires of London illuminated the horizon. If it weren't for the few stars still shining in the sky, Garrus couldn't be sure if it were night or day.

The flash of red hair against the drab and cluttered ground outside. Shepard was back, and he watched her take the stairs two at a time. A small spark of panic gripped his heart. This was it. How do you watch someone walk to away to meet their fate when you can do nothing to stop it? He suddenly realized he'd never expressed his love for her. Was now the time? Days before, on the Citadel, her response to his question, 'was she ready to become one turian woman' filled him with pride. But there was much they hadn't shared and so much left to do. Share a life? A child? Garrus never told her turians mated for life.

Still standing at the entrance to her quarters, Garrus forced the memories of battle away. They'd never found Anderson's or Shepard's bodies. The Earth was her tomb and maybe that was appropriate.

Afterward, they encouraged him to remain in her quarters. Everyone agreed that it was only right. He hadn't the heart to argue with them or admit he couldn't make himself activate the elevator button. He didn't need to go there to know what is gone, what was left behind and waits for him.

Almost anywhere on this ship was okay, but not here. The uncomfortable human bed and nearly inaccessible human bathroom. He knew without looking that on the right side of the bed, almost hidden from view, lay a pile of blankets and pillows. Over time, they'd added a basket and tray for food and drink. A stack of books she never had the chance to read and a batch of PADDS. She never allowed anyone to move their "nest." In fact, Gardner had been relieved of all duties in her quarters except general cleaning. Otherwise, their nest remained the same as the night he created it for her.

The small details are what enrich the relationship of any couple. Her ferocious attention to every detail. Her humor and free-spirited nudity. Talking to him from the bathroom, no matter how many times he reminded her he could not hear her through the closed door or over the sound of the water. Her solution? She took to leaving the door open. Watching the water cascade over her naked body, left him little energy for listening to a serious conversation.

On her desk lay a holographic chess set, the bottle of lotion for soothing her new turian clan tattoo (located in a place only Garrus and the ink artist knew about.) The models still in their holders, a cold cup of coffee, the keys to the Citadel apartment and her personal items in the bathroom. A towel, on the floor as usual, from the last time she took a shower. The weapon she always meant to take to Vega for adjustment propped next to the door.

Her complete willingness to take on any turian tradition he mentioned, or she read about. He watched her, with a full heart, assume the duties of a "nesting" turian female. She learned to prepare meals for him, and she fussed. The indomitable Commander Shepard fussed over him when he didn't take the time to eat or rest. Amidst the stark realities of war, Shepard made a home for them. Something he had not experienced since he left home at fifteen to join the military.

Once, she showed him a book, complete with color pictures, of turian sexual positions. She wanted to try the one entitled, of all things "The Bridge". She waited expectantly for his reaction while he stared at the picture in horror. Their attempt left her laughing on the floor with a wrenched shoulder and Garrus, definitely not laughing, with muscle spasms. They agreed (Agreed? He would have locked her in the closet before he let anyone find out about this.) not to go to Doctor Chakwas with their injuries. At night she sneaked down to the Galley for ice, and they nursed each other back to health.

While at no point did Garrus find it amusing, she was still laughing about it the next day and the day after when she had to help into his armor. In response to his glowering, she threw her arms around him, nipped at his neck and whispered, " _te amo_."

He realized then, she'd either brazenly—she was Commander Shepard, after all—added a new word to his language or managed to discover the word in some obscure turian dialect. If any turian had ever been loved like this, that word would have been added to his language a long time ago. For all of the changes in her, or perhaps she'd never had the opportunity to allow the behaviors to come forth? Outside this room and in her armor she was still their commander. Together in the privacy of her quarters, she was his mate. He marveled at the changes and loved her all the more.

His grief at losing her carved furrows of pain through him and left him in emotional turmoil. No amount of good old-fashioned turian fatalism could prepare him for watching her jump off the Normandy's ramp and head back into battle without him at her side. Or that the miracle of her love for him was now no more than the shadows of her movements in this room. He would never see her smile again. Watch humor shine in her eyes. Never touch her shoulder and share that look that said, no matter how bad the fight, things would be okay. Never watch her lean against a doorway with her arms crossed over chest. Never marvel at her courage or abilities, never hold her in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

After the battle, after the Catalyst did its work, a firestorm erupted around the Citadel. Garrus made Joker leave the area. He'd ordered him to move the Normandy out of harm's way. To save the ship and crew they left her behind. You never left a shipmate behind. Ever.

Miraculously, Joker made a controlled crash on some obscure planet. With only minor injuries to the crew. The jungle planet proved easier to escape from than these memories. The repairs were inconsequential. Once Joker got them in the air again, they headed back to Earth. They looked at him expectantly for leadership No matter where he looked the crew's hollowed eyes, and emotion-lined faces reminded him that she was gone. She sacrificed herself so they might live. Not just for her team, but the remainder of the Citadel races.

He'd loved her and lost her twice now. There was nothing left in him. If he couldn't make himself walk down these two steps, how would exit the ship? They were twenty-four hours from Earth now. What would they find there?

Her death bled like an open wound. He wanted to weep or tear the room apart, but turians don't cry. His desire to express his grief is not that of a dignified turian. He should celebrate her victories. Tell stories of her heroism.

Garrus knew she would depend on him to hold the crew together. But guilt poisoned his heart and tore him to shreds. His head ached with a thousand unshed emotions, while each thought must be pulled back lest it touches on the truth. He let her slip away…twice. A faithful and genuine mate would have taken better care of her. Protected her from danger. He was stronger and larger and protected, while she was soft and small and…

Garrus Vakarian slid to his knees and keened out his grief.


	3. My Immortal

 

* * *

"These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase."

Evanescence, _My Immortal_

* * *

 

Admiral Hackett recruited him. Admiral Hackett gave him work and something to think about besides the loss of Commander Shepard. Garrus spent his days traveling from place to place, several times to the outer planets, working for Admiral Hackett. He listened to problems and marshaled resources. He compiled census data on orphans, displaced families, and attempted to reunite veterans with their loved ones. It was good work. Was it interesting work? No. Well, yes, perhaps it was gratifying to help people find their families. Did it keep him busy? Yes. Should he be doing this same work on Palaven? Probably.

Did it fill the empty place in his heart where she lived? No. It's the same gut feeling that kept him from putting Shepard's nameplate on the Normandy's memorial wall and prevented him from leaving the Sol System. He stayed with it and gradually absorbed the fact that almost everyone he met had lost a loved one. He knew their grief and understood. That understanding didn't stop him from looking for Shepard in the gaunt cheeks and frightened eyes of every orphan and grieving features of the ones left behind.

He thought of the children. Their children. Biology, be damned. If they were the first to create a turian human child, then that's what they would do. Because he'd asked and she said yes. The shy smile and the way her eyes darted away at his question.

Kiss the girl like you mean it.

Yes, Shepard. I meant it. I meant every word I said to you and I would give anything to put our child in your arms.

Millions of turians lost their lives in the war with the Reapers. An entire generation lost. His father will insist his only son pick a mate. Garrus knows he is many years past the time when a turian male expects to mate. If he goes home, then he's ready to face his role in turian society. His gizzard cramped with the thought. She won't have pink and white curves, curious hair between her legs one shade lighter than her red hair, sensitive nipples on soft round breasts or tease him with her lips and tongue. No turian woman would ever behave the way Shepard took for granted in private. Her lack of turian inhibition was just one of the many things he loved about her.

He shook his head and pulled his thoughts to the present.

This morning he realized he'd come full circle back to Great Britain. Just now he stood on an area of land known as Glastonbury Abbey, located on the southwest coast of England. The area had a long history of romance, magic, and epic battles. After the Battle for Earth, the entire area became a hospital and R & R center for the Alliance military and associated civilians.

Garrus stood with the medical director on a breeze swept expanse of lawn discussing medical supply requisitions. A skirt of grass sloped gently toward the shore with a simple wooden railing directing the casual hiker away from the steep path that led down to the sea.

Although he typically found the islands too wet and cold. He finally learned to appreciate the beauty of Great Britain. In fact, since the war, Garrus learned to appreciate the variety of colorful landscapes Earth had to offer. Garrus raised his face to the warm summer breeze.

He didn't think he would miss it. Maybe he'll miss it a little. The first thing he will do when he arrives on Palaven is stand in the sun until his plates are finally warm again. Then his father will take him by the arm and force him back into society. His father would not miss the opportunity to show off his son the war hero.

After years of working with humans and other races, it was time to go home. This was his last job. From here Garrus would turn the work over to his staff and return to Palaven. Admiral Hackett tried to talk him out of leaving. Finally, the Admiral understood and wished the turian well. The two men shook hands and Garrus looked into Hackett's eyes and thanked him. They didn't need to express the thought they'd probably saved each other's lives or going crazy from grief at the loss of Shepard.

And Garrus wanted to see his father and sister. His father had practically ordered him to return home, reminding of the work that waited for him on Palaven. It was time to let go, time to pull a life together from the pieces of the war. Time to go home. Garrus shook off the anxiety and turned his attention back to the director.

As the doctor droned on, something on the lawn pulled his attention away again. Garrus' gaze followed the path to the water's edge and noticed a darting movement among the resting patients and visitors. A few of them complained about the intrusion of the small figure wrapped in blankets and large straw hat in a wheelchair.

The center housed refugees from the war. No species was turned away. Asari, humans, turians and even one or two krogans dotted the long porch and the spacious lawn. Garrus missed the Normandy's crew and thought of them every day. A unique and once in a lifetime experience full of memories, courage and comradery and a Commander with red hair, fiery temper and courage to match.

While he watched the chair and passenger seemed to disappear over the edge. Garrus watched, torn between alerting the doctor or checking on the patient himself. The physician spoke to one of the nearby medical technicians.

"She's on the move again, Mister Snyder. Better go get her."

"She just wants to listen to the birds, Doc."

"That the wheelchair is not an all-terrain vehicle," the doctor snapped. "We don't want another scene with her crawling around in the sand looking for nests. Grab some help and get down there."

When the med-tech shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly away, the turian's impatience grew. The patient might be injured, and no one seemed to be in much of a hurry to assist. He decided since he's closest to the patient he will head down. As Garrus turned away, the doctor made a call.

"Meet me in the exam room one. Yes, it's Jane Doe again. Nothing's changed. No. I don't know when we can treat her. We can't even I.D. her, much less repair the extensive damage to her synthetics. No word on her eyes. We don't even have the resources to regrow the tissue. The burns and broken bones we fixed. I don't even know if there's anyone left alive who knows how. She's more restive and angry every day. Unless we receive better drugs or the kind of doctor, she needs we may have to confine her. Look, just meet me there."

The sound of the man's voice faded as Garrus hurried down the slope of grass. Seabirds screeched and cartwheeled over the breaking waves. Sun glinted off the wet rocks, blinding him for a moment. Just below the edge, he heard the whine of an electric chair accompanied by the sound of an angry voice. Garrus heard the voice growling, "Goddamn thing doesn't drive any better than the Mako!"

When the occupant threw their weight to the left to straighten the chair, Garrus' breath caught.

Spirits!

He really didn't know how to swim. Garrus stretched his long legs and caught up with the chair just as it bounced back against the white-painted rocks guarding the edge of the path. The chair tilted sharply to the right threatening to dump its passenger again. The wind sent the straw hat flying. Garrus watched it sail away.

A flash of red against the blues and grays caught his eye. He shouted a warning, but the wind and water drowned out his words. The chair rocked again, bumping over the uneven terrain. One wrong move and the chair and its occupant would follow the hat into the churning sea below.

The chair is pointed directly at the edge of a drop-off now. The passenger is about to resume the headlong journey to the shoreline. Garrus hurried down the path, his eyes on the wild red hair billowing in the wind. His feet move without conscious thought. Garrus positioned himself on the narrow path attempting to block the patient from rolling forward.

Then turning slowly, he does not allow himself a moment of hope. He was, after all, simply here to provide aid to a patient.

The chair rolled to a stop in front of him and bumped into his legs.

"Who's there? Get outta my way!"

Dropping to knees that could no longer hold him upright Garrus stared reached a shaking hand to push the red hair back from the woman's face.

The frail patient almost hidden inside blankets slapped his hands away. "I said, move, mister!"

She cried out when a finger contacted a sharp talon. Her hand jerked back, but her head came up, blind eyes searching. Then one by one, fingertips crept back as she silently began to explore.

It wasn't possible. He knew what she had to survive to be alive.

He's seeing her. She's here. Alive He's looking into the beautiful and fierce face of his beloved Shepard. His heart didn't see the scars or the blind eyes. He stayed on his knees and bowed his head, but he couldn't stop the trembling.

Her fingers traveled up his arm, examining the three-fingered hand, the smooth leather skin of his arm and the delicate texture of a wool sleeve. Unsteady hands followed the outline of his shoulders and continued up his neck, lingering over the carapace. Then her left hand began a path of its own discovery.

"Let me go," she whispered from trembling lips. "I can't... not anymore... there's nothing left. Please let me go."

Garrus held his breath, forced himself to stay still. Until all the grief and guilt came boiling from his heart. A keening cry rose in his throat as he bowed his head. His brow plates against her forehead.

"That's one wish I cannot grant you. I'm sorry."

His movement caused her hand slid up to his mandibles, where she began to trace the outline of familiar shapes. As if she were counting each scar, recalling their texture and accompanying memories.

"I...I remember they drove you wild once..." he said, his voice choked.

The patient said a word he thought he'd never hear again. Perhaps it's the magic of Glastonbury at work? Perhaps, just now, The Lady of the Lake is smiling? The woman whispered his name, and her breath is warm and alive against his mandibles. The voice is fragile, a fraction of its normal tone, but he knew the sound of his mate's voice. He heard the grief and pain laced through her words.

"Please... let me go. There's nothing left of me. Pretend you never saw..."

"Te amo, te amo, te amo." Garrus rumbled against her cheek, reaching for her, slipping his hands under her and pulling her forward.

Empty, the much-abused wheelchair took its last ride. Bouncing over the rocks and landing in a tide pool after its occupant flung herself at the turian. Sobs wracked the thin body.

"You found me."

Garrus held her close, banishing the demons, soothing the hurt and protecting his mate as he always had and always would.

* * *

 

My Immortal: you tube: watch?v=5anLPw0Efmo

The Bridge. Yeah, you go look it up. It's in the Kama Sutra. Easy Google search. When it comes up on your screen, the visualization will smack you in the face, and you'll be giggling about it from now until Christmas. (giggling madly)

Miranda Lawson's Lab: I love watching these TED videos. So interesting. Apparently, we could re-grow a "Shepard" now. (graphic, but fascinating images) blog . ted 2012 / 09 / 13 /10-talks-on-the-future-of-stem-cell-medicine

"Move. Fight. Live." HALO Spartans


End file.
